April Fool's Series
by GAKDragonMCP
Summary: AU, alternate Buffy season 3, Faith & Angel bond as a family, and try to keep it from the Scooby Gang
1. Comfort Zone

Comfort Zone

Disclaimer:  (_n_) a denial of legal responsibility; a written statement embodying this.  

I do not own these characters.  The evil little acid-tripping troll – er, Joss Whedon – does.  

Summary:  (_n_) a brief account of the main points of something.  

This happens a few days after "Amends" and is almost purely fluff.  What, you want more?  That's not 'a brief account.'  

Spoiler(s):  (_n_) a projecting structure on an aircraft wing that increases drag - what the...!?  I'd better use 'to spoil:'  (_v_) to damage as to make useless, etc; to impair the enjoyment of.  Or spoilsport:  (_n_) a person who spoils the fun of others.    
Discusses the major events of "Amends" and previous episodes.  

Rating:  (_n_) an assessment, an evaluation, an appraisal.  

Rated 'PG: Parental Guidance suggested' .  

Feedback:  (_n_) information about a product, service, etc returned to the supplier for purposes of evaluation.  

Send all flames, compliments, questions, etc to GAKDragon@msn.com.  Be sure to put "Re: Comfort Zone" as your subject title or my dad will delete it (God, I hate spam).  

Author's note:  Why must you clutter your mind with the inconsequential?  All right, all right already.  Buffy's in pain and Angel comforts her.  This is the first story in my "April Fool's" series.  

Joyce Summers knocked softly on her daughter's door.  "Come in," came the muffled voice.  She gently pushed open the door.  

"Are you feeling okay, honey?  You didn't eat much at dinner.  Was it the Christmas leftovers?"  

Buffy moaned and shook her head.  "I'm not feeling good."  She put a hand over her stomach and curled into a fetal position.  

Joyce nodded with understanding.  "I see.  Do you want some Midol?"  

Buffy shook her head.  "Took some."  

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed.  "It hasn't kicked in yet?"  

"Nope."  Buffy sighed as her mom brushed her hair away from her forehead.  

Joyce glanced out the window at the approaching storm clouds.  "Are you sure Faith is okay out there on her own?"  

"She'll be fine.  She likes slaying."  

"And you don't," her mother said dryly.  

"It's not bad."  

Her mother nodded, skeptical.  "I thought about having a dinner for your friends.  Just a few of them this time.  We could make a New Year's party out of it."  

Buffy shrugged.  "Sounds okay."  

Her mom stood up.  "Well," she said kissing Buffy's forehead, "I hope you feel better tomorrow.  Good night, honey."  

"Night, Mom."  Her mom closed the door and Buffy sighed.  She knew Faith would be fine; she was always fine.  Buffy was worried about Angel.  

They were supposed to do some tai chi in the mansion before she joined Faith on patrol.  But she'd gotten her period, and couldn't join either of them.  Faith would shrug it off and go on her own, but Angel was still so vulnerable.  Christmas had only been two days ago.  What if he thought she'd deserted him?  That she never wanted to be with him again?  She immediately moved to get out of bed, but a cramp hit her and she fell back.  She wished she could call him.  She prayed he was okay.  

*****

A powerful left hook snapped his head back, then a right uppercut made him fly back and land on the ground.  The vampire snarled and sprang up, lunging out of the way of the Slayer's stake.  

He reached back and threw a punch that landed on Faith's shoulder.  She leaned into it, using his retreating momentum against him and placing a one-two combination to his gut.  Faith threw a left hook at him, then grabbed a stake from her pocket and plunged it into his heart.  

After the dust settled, she looked around the cemetery expectantly.  "What, no more?" she asked the silence.  

She glanced up at the cloudy sky and put her stake away.  No sensible person would be out in the rain, so any vampires stupid enough to come out looking for food generally wound up empty-handed.  

She looked around and was about to head out of the cemetery when three rubbery demons converged on her.  

She cursed under her breath and grabbed her stake again.  She kicked the gut of the demon closest to her and ran to a spot where she could better defend herself.  

One of the demons caught her from behind and pulled her to the ground.  She grunted and squirmed, nearly managing to get away.  

The one who caught her sat on her back, while one of its buddies conjured a club with spikes on it.  The other demon began chanting some ritual.  

The demon with the club swung it down at her head.  Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blinding pain.  

It never came.  As the club swung down, a male hand caught it and yanked it away from the demon.  He flung a punch at the demon's face, turned, and swung the club at the assailant sitting on Faith's back.  

Faith scrambled away and sprang up as the demon fell over.  She looked at her rescuer in mild surprise.  

Angel swung the club at the demon's head again, this time contacting with its skull in a sickening crunch.  Faith leaped and tackled the demon behind Angel.  

The vampire whirled, then hefted the club and charged in.  Faith snapped the demon's head back with a high kick to its chin, and Angel finished it off with the club.  

Angel dropped the weapon, but Faith looked around the cemetery.  Angel lifted an eyebrow in silent question.  

"There were three of them," Faith said.  

"Got him," he replied, pointing over his shoulder.  She looked, and saw the third demon lying on the ground, a knife sticking out of his forehead.  

"They're called Grasnok demons.  They let off a stink that vampires can smell for miles."  Angel looked around.  "Where's Buffy?  She was supposed to meet me earlier."  

"She didn't show.  I was gonna stop by after patrol, her mom insisted that I stay with them for New Year's."  

He nodded.  "I was headed over there, to check on her.  I'll walk you."  

"You don't need to do that.  I'm five by five."  

"It's on my way, Faith."  

She shrugged and fell into step beside him.  "Hey, Angel," she began a few minutes later.  

He glanced over at her.  

"Thanks for the save.  I guess you're not so bad after all."  

He smiled slowly.  "Thank you for that.  Kendra…."  He trailed off.  "I didn't know her that well, she wasn't in town that long."  

Faith swallowed.  "My watcher - the one Kakistos killed - said she was very dedicated to her calling.  She didn't party, didn't hang around boys.  She sounded like a nun."  

He chuckled.  "She was just raised differently, that's all."  

"Like Buffy.  I hated my mom, even  when she was sober.  Mrs. Summers is just so different.  She's normal."  

He made an agreeable sound.  "She hates me, but I don't blame her.  I flat out told her Buffy and I had slept together when I was evil.  She's like Giles in that every time she sees me, her eye twitches.  They think I don't notice."  

Faith looked up at the Summers residence.  "Guess you'd better not come in through the front door, huh?"  

"Wasn't planning on it."  Angel jumped silently onto the porch roof and crept to Buffy's window.  He waved back at Faith, who entered the house by more normal means.  

Buffy's light was still on, a sign that both relieved and worried him.  At least she hadn't been killed on her way to the mansion.  

But why hadn't she come?  Had her mom grounded her?  He smiled.  That had worked better than Joyce planned the last time she'd tried it.  

He knocked softly on her window.  Several minutes later, Buffy opened it.  "Angel," she said softly.  "I'm glad you came.  Come in, come in."  She left the window and crawled back into bed, hugging Mr. Gordo.  

Angel climbed inside and shut the window behind him.  He turned around, his mouth opening to ask what had happened, when he saw her in bed, a look of discomfort on her face.  He immediately moved to her side.  

"Buffy, are you okay?  Are you hurt?"  

She smiled and caressed his face.  "I'll be fine in a few days.  The first day's always the worst."  

He knelt next to her bed, taking her hand in both of his.  "First day of what?"  

Her eyes widened.  "You can't smell it?"  

"Smell?"  He sniffed.  Her perfume and lotion filled his senses as always.  Underneath there was a smell of decaying blood.  He recoiled slightly.  "Oh, that.  You're having your-"  He swallowed.  

She nodded and pulled her hand away.  He caught hold of it and gently kissed her palm.  Leaning forward, he kissed her on the forehead.  "I didn't mean it like that, Buffy.  It's just - it's an involuntary reaction, like sunlight.  I didn't even notice it until you mentioned it.  But now that you have..."  He got up and looked around the room.  He pulled out a few drawers, moved some things on her desk.  

"What are you looking for?"  

"Marbles."  

"Huh?"  

"Do you have any marbles anywhere?"  

"No."  

"Damn."  He stood in the middle of the room, thinking.  "Well, I guess I could..."  He sat on the edge of her bed.  "Do you trust me?"  

"You know I do."  

"Close your eyes, lie back."  She did as he asked.  He gently took the stuffed pig from her and sat it by her head.  

He pulled the covers down and bunched them around her knees.  Gritting his teeth, he vowed to look anywhere but at her face.  

Placing his hands over her hips, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Relax.  Don't be afraid."  

He sat up and pressed down hard on her belly with his thumbs.  He slowly kneaded in circles, squeezing with his palms.  

Buffy let out a little moan.  She felt around for Mr. Gordo, picked him up and held onto him.  

Angel massaged her belly, just above where her cramps were.  "Does this feel any better?" he asked after a few minutes.  

"Mm-hmm," she nodded.  "Where did you learn this?"  

"Tibet.  Martial arts healing."  

"I'm sorry I couldn't come."  

He shook his head.  "Nah, it's okay.  You're hurt.  'Sides, this is kinda fun."  He grinned.  

She laughed slightly.  

"It's probably a good thing you didn't go patrolling," he continued as he kneaded with his knuckles.  "All the monsters in Sunnydale would have been able to smell you coming," he teased.  

She scrunched her nose at him.  "That feels good.  Keep doing that."  

"Yes, Master."  

She bopped him on the head with the pig.  "I should chain you to that lamppost again."  

"Ha, ha.  That's if you could find the chains.  I did some house cleaning and general breaking of stuff when you said you were never coming back."  

Buffy sat up, breaking the rhythm of his massage.  She ran her fingers along his eyebrow and cheek.  "I'm so sorry I hurt you."  

"You were right, what you said.  We're not friends.  We're soul mates."  He put his arms around her.  "I never did thank you for helping me get better after. . .  Well, after."  

She smiled at him sadly, and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder.  He held her tight, memories of those days threatening to surface.  He'd smashed quite a few pieces of furniture in his heartache.  

But she was here now, and despite what she might have said, she didn't want him to leave.  Her pleas on Christmas morning had proven that.  

He kissed her on the shoulder and relaxed his grip.  She sighed deeply and pulled back.  He pushed her hair out of her face.  

"Feel better?" he whispered.  

She nodded and kissed him.  She felt that familiar charge run through her.  Kissing Angel was so electric; he made her feel more alive.  

"Thank you," he whispered when they broke apart.  

"For what?"  

"For not letting me stop fighting.  For making me prove how much I love you."  He caressed her cheek, making her smile.  

He leaned slightly forward and kissed her again.  Her hands ran up to his shoulders and pushed off his duster.  Cradling her in his arms, he laid her back flat on the bed.  

Angel kept his hands still, resting gently under her back.  Moving them would lead to disaster.  Likewise, Buffy let her hands play with his hair and his shoulders, but no further.  

He broke the kiss to let her breathe, and she winced as her stomach muscles cramped.  Chuckling, Angel teasingly shook his head and kissed her on the nose.  "Get into bed, _Ioniun."  _

"Huh?"  

"_Ioniun, it means beloved."  As she obeyed, he stood up and turned off her light.  He pulled off his blue long-sleeved shirt, folding it neatly on the corner of her dresser.  He flipped the tag of his white T-shirt back under his collar.  As a vampire, he didn't really need the warmth of extra clothing.  It was just a comfort to have the extra layers, plus it was practical.  _

He shoved off his shoes, and then took off his jeans.  Placing them on top of his shirt on the dresser, he rummaged around in the bottom of Buffy's closet for the afghan she stowed in there for him.  

He dragged the hideous orange and brown cover over to her bed.  He leaned over her to steal an extra pillow, but she stopped him.  

"Sleep up here," she asked, patting the other side of her bed.  "Please?"  

"Okay," he said huskily.  He gently climbed over her, lying on top of the covers, his back to the wall.  

Buffy pulled the afghan over him, kissing him on the forehead.  "Night, Angel."  

"Good night, _mo chroi_."  

"What does that one mean, again?"  She turned over, slipping her hand under her pillow.  He'd told her once before, he wasn't saying mockery, but some Gaelic endearment.  She'd loved it, it made her feel like Angel was just another guy, who called his girlfriend cute little pet names.  

He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck, pulling her back against him.  "My heart."  He splayed his fingers across her womb protectively, massaging her sore muscles.  

She leaned into him, lacing their hands together over her stomach.  The gentle rhythm of his massage put her to sleep.  

Listening to her breathe evenly, Angel thought about what Faith had said.  *_I guess you're not so bad after all_.*  A reluctant admission and a rare smile from a very professional Slayer.  And then, outside the house, genuine – if subtle – acceptance of his and Buffy's relationship.  She didn't attempt to prevent him from seeing Buffy.  Instead, she had made herself a member of the inner circle of Buffy's friends who knew the depth of their feelings for each other, and who protected them from her mother's wrath.  With a soft smile on his face, he let sleep claim him.  


	2. Caught RedHanded

Caught Red-Handed

Disclaimer: (_n_) a denial of legal responsibility; a written statement embodying this.

I do not own these characters. The evil little acid-tripping troll – er, Joss Whedon – does.

The chess scenes include quotes and material from the movie, "Luzhin's Defense."

Summary: (_n_) a brief account of the main points of something.

This happens immediately following my story "Comfort Zone." What happens when Angel and Buffy wake up?

Spoiler(s): (_n_) a projecting structure on an aircraft wing that increases drag - what the...? I'd better use 'to spoil:' (_v_) to damage as to make useless, etc; to impair the enjoyment of. Or spoilsport: (_n_) a person who spoils the fun of others.  
Discusses the major events of "Amends" and previous episodes. Also briefly discusses scenes from the Angel episode "Are you now, or have you ever been" in Angel season 2, and the ballet scene Angel describes for Joyce is from "Waiting in the Wings" in Angel season 3.

Rating: (_n_) an assessment, an evaluation, an appraisal.

Rated 'PG: Parental Guidance suggested' .

Feedback: (_n_) information about a product, service, etc returned to the supplier for purposes of evaluation.

Send all flames, compliments, questions, etc to Be sure to put "Re: Caught Red-Handed" as your subject title or my dad will delete it (I swear, people who send spam must eat in that Monty Python restaurant and enjoy themselves).

Author's note: Why must you insist on pumping me for information? All you need to know is that this story picks up where "Comfort Zone" stopped. Buffy and Angel face the music. This is the second story in my "April Fool's" series.

Angel sleepily pulled the warm bundle closer to him. It moved in response and sighed, telling him it was Buffy he was holding on to. Kissing the back of her head, he drowsily lie still, trying to savor the moment.

A while later, he was woken by something poking him in the arm. He shoved the offending object away, hugging Buffy tighter to him, who'd turned over.

"Psst, Angel."

That did it. He growled low in his throat and opened his eyes. "What?" he barked softly.

Faith was hovering over him. "B's mom is on her way up here."

Angel swore and got out of bed. Careful not to disturb Buffy, he grabbed a pillow and his blanket and set them up on the floor. He lay back down and rested for a bit, letting his head clear up. Catching on quick, Faith sat next to him on the floor just as Joyce came in.

"Buffy," she called. "Time to get up honey – oh my goodness!"

"Angel, I don't wanna go to school," Buffy mumbled in her sleep as she rolled over.

Laughing, he sat up and pushed her, hard, so she rolled over again. "Huh, what?" she said, awake now. Grinning at her, he pointed up at her mother, who was glaring at all three of them. "Morning, Mom," she said sheepishly.

"Care to explain this to me?"

Faith jumped in before Buffy could open her mouth. "Angel saved my ass on patrol last night, Mrs. S. He insisted on walking me here so he could check up on B."

Both of the Summers women stared at him. He scratched the back of his head and looked down, a little embarrassed. Joyce quirked an eyebrow at him, but Buffy dug into him. "You didn't tell me that," she said, proud and a little hurt.

"It wasn't that big a deal," he shrugged, glad his blood didn't circulate so his face couldn't blush.

Now it was Buffy's turn to raise her eyebrow. "Faith, do you think it was big deal that he saved your life out there?"

She chuckled, glad for the chance to tease him. "Oh, yeah, definitely. Number One on Life's To-Do List: pay back Angel for saving my neck."

Angel glared at her, but the brunette gave him an innocent look. He shrugged and gave Buffy a lopsided grin.

She smiled and leaned over to kiss it off his face.

His eyes closed as her soft, warm lips spread little fires in his nerves. Unbidden, his hand reached back through her hair, cupping her head.

Watching them kiss, oblivious to anyone else in the room, Faith cocked her head and smiled wistfully. God, to know that kind of love would be heaven. Love so strong it survived battle after battle, months of isolation, even the fires of hell and an eternity of torture. Love sweet enough to sustain their hearts, love strong enough to keep them together even though they couldn't be in the physical sense of the word, love so strong it was blind to all the reasons they should be apart.

Joyce, however, frowned, and her brow furrowed. She didn't understand how her daughter could love this … vampire. She didn't understand it, and she hated that she couldn't understand something that was obviously so important in her little girl's life. After being kept in the dark for so long; about the slaying, about vampires and demons and the things that went bump in the night, and about Buffy's relationship with any man, let alone one 200-plus years older than her, then having it all dumped on her the night of a major showdown with a sadistic bastard who had made her life a living hell; was too much for any woman to comprehend. But that was Buffy's life, and Joyce wanted to understand it, make it better any way she could. She was missing pieces of the puzzle, and she hated it. She cleared her throat.

Buffy ignored her, hands coming up to cup Angel's face as she deepened the kiss.

Faith jabbed him in the side. "Ow," he protested, breaking the kiss.

He looked up at Joyce's stern face and stood up. Folding his afghan, acutely aware that Joyce was watching his every move, he put it back in the bottom of Buffy's closet. He rummaged around, uttering a soft "Yes" of discovery when his hand hit the small wooden chest that contained some of his extra clothes.

He pulled it out, but then grimaced at the sight that greeted him when he opened the lid: Angelus' leather. Nothing but leather. Leather pants, leather vests, leather shirts, a worn-out leather coat, and a leather bustier for – he would have blushed – Buffy. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found some velvet shirts in the bottom. He pulled out a dark maroon one, some socks, and boxers, then looked at the leather in disgust.

He picked up the bustier and held it out, to Faith. "Want this? You can party in it."

She took it with a twisted grin, holding it up for inspection. "Will it fit?"

"Probably not, but isn't that the point?"

Faith inspected the pockets and said, "Ooh," pulling out a wad of cash. "I think this is yours." She waved the bills, mostly 50s and 100s, at him.

He raised his palm, refusing to take it. "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

All three women dropped their jaws in astonishment. "Angel," Faith breathed in awe. "Angel, this is-" she quickly counted "-over 3,000. It's yours." She waved it at him again.

"It's not mine, anymore than it belongs to the demon that stole it." He frowned, remembering the terrified young law student Angelus had raped and killed, then robbed. Angel didn't really want any part of that fortune. It was poetic justice that a Slayer of vampires should have it. The other one, the one worth billions that he'd slowly accumulated over the years, had started with his family's money. He considered it an inheritance, and hadn't touched it in fifty years.

Angel cocked his head and wondered if the Hyperion Hotel was still standing, or if the demon had destroyed the building.

Buffy, reading his original line of thought, ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed and leaned his face into her hand, kissing her palm. Returning the gesture as he stood up, he addressed Joyce. "Do you mind if I use your shower, Mrs. Summers?"

"Go ahead."

He looked down at the pile of leather forlornly. He picked the loosest pair of pants he could find, and took the bundle to the bathroom down the hall.

Buffy sighed and met her mother's questioning glare. "Mom, let me wake up, then we'll explain everything, okay?"

Joyce let out a long sigh. "I should let you know I'm disappointed in you girls. You didn't trust me with the truth, and didn't think I would be able to handle his presence in this house." She let it sink in, then gave them a warning. "He gets one chance. If he treats either one of you badly or with disrespect, he's banned from the house. And I'll take your door off its hinges, young lady, just to make sure he's not sneaking in here.

"If…if last year happens again, I'll see to it personally he becomes a dust pile."

Faith gulped. Buffy's eyes widened, and she looked ready to cry. Faith was silent as Joyce left the room.

Faith stuck her hands in her pockets, then remembered the money. She held it out for Buffy. "Here, you're his girlfriend. You should have it."

Buffy politely refused. "I don't need anything. You've got an apartment to pay for, you take it."

"Don't you want half, or anything?"

"Faith, Angelus left all that money there for me. He must have even more stashed somewhere that Angel just doesn't want to use. Go ahead, take it."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, my mom would say." She sat at the end of the bed, divided the money by denomination, and counted it.

Buffy got up, stretched and yawned, and padded over to the closet. She looked over everything. "Sorry, Angel," she apologized out loud, "but I'm cold."

She pulled out a white long-sleeved blouse, the brown sweater her mom had given her for Christmas, and a pair of old jeans.

A box wrapped in green and red plaid caught her eye and she squealed. "Ooh, I almost forgot!"

She turned around and presented Faith with the gift. "Merry Christmas, F."

Faith sighed and put the money away. "Your guardian Angel gave me 4,600, B. I don't need anymore presents."

"Well, this is from me."

Faith smiled and took the gift. As she opened it, Buffy apologized. "Sorry it's late, it was a special order thing."

Faith ripped away the wrapping paper and opened the clipboard-sized wooden box. "Oh my God," she breathed.

A wickedly curved, double-edged knife with a blade the length of Faith's hand was nestled snugly in a creamy velvet lining. A simple gold cross on a gold chain was draped on top of it.

Engraved on the blade, near the hilt on both sides, was a cross. The hilt was made of wood wrapped in brown leather, and had the sign of the cross burned into it. The pommel was made of gold and had another cross, this one embossed.

Buffy broke Faith's awe-inspired silence, tucking her blouse in her jeans. "I figured, even if it didn't work right, you'd have a handy knife when you needed it."

"Buffy, this is—" She choked up and burst into tears. First a vampire had saved her life, then he casually gives her over 4,000.

Then her sister Slayer gives her a beautiful, practical weapon. Buffy barely had time to pull her sweater over her head when Faith barreled into her, hugging her and sobbing into her shoulder.

As Angel re-entered the room, toweling his hair off, Buffy lifted her eyebrows and tried to warn him.

Faith broke away from Buffy and hugged an astonished Angel. He awkwardly patted her on the back. He mouthed over to Buffy 'What brought this on?'

Buffy opened the wooden box. Angel whistled at the deadly weapon enclosed inside.

"Do you mind if I test it on you, honey?" Buffy asked him as Faith pulled away.

"Test it?" He eyed it warily.

Buffy took the knife and brought it over for a closer look.

"Ah," Angel said, looking at all the crosses on the knife. "Anti-vampire knife."

"Uh-huh."

He reached out a hand and gently grasped the blade. "Ah! It burns," he hissed, snatching his hand away.

"Yay, it worked!" Buffy put the knife away.

"You forgot a sheath," Angel pointed out, shaking the sting out of his hand.

Buffy looked a little hurt. "It's underneath."

Faith couldn't take anymore. She took the case off the bed and headed for the stairs. "I'm gonna put this with my stuff. I gotta sun proof the house anyway."

Angel sank to the bed. Buffy walked over to stand between his knees. Angel wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head in her stomach. Buffy slung her arms around his shoulders.

Angel lifted his head and puckered up, begging her for a kiss. Buffy smiled and complied.

"Is your mom going to be okay with me stuck in the house all day?"

Buffy shrugged. "If you behave, I don't think she'll have anything to worry about."

"I'll just. Have to. Be my. Charming. Self," he said between kisses.

She grabbed his hands and pulled him up. "Come on," she said, leading him by the hand to the stairs.

He grinned and tickled her in the side with his free hand. Buffy squealed and pinned her arms to her sides.

Angel reached around and tickled her stomach. Buffy squealed again and raced down the stairs.

Laughing, Angel vaulted over the side of the railing, landing in her way. Buffy shrieked, and ran back up the stairs. With a long leap, Angel landed behind her and used one strong arm to lift her off her feet.

"Help! Help!"

Angel dragged her down the stairs and pinned her against the wall, tickling her ribcage and her stomach.

"No, stop! Angel, stop!" She shrieked through her laughter. "Gah!"

Joyce ran into the room, a frying pan held high. Faith was close behind with her new knife.

Buffy retaliated, running her slim fingers up Angel's sides. "Oh, no you don't," he scolded, grabbing her hands together in one large fist. He pinned them above her head. She squealed as he continued his assault on her ribcage.

Joyce lowered the frying pan and stalked back into the kitchen. Faith put her knife away then decided to even the odds.

She hopped on Angel's back, pulling at his arms. He cried out in surprise.

Buffy jumped in and tickled him. Now he was the one squealing for help.

He stood straight up and pried at Faith's arms, wrapped around his neck.

He reached back and tickled her stomach. She let go of her grip and dropped to the floor.

Angel whirled around and tickled her. Faith squealed and ran from him.

As he ran after her, Buffy jumped on his back. "Oh, not again," he whined.

"That's enough!" Joyce yelled, staring at them from the kitchen. "You're acting like four-year-olds."

Buffy hopped down, and Angel and Faith tried to avoid eye contact with each other.

"Sorry, ma'am," Angel said first, his voice soft but thick with his brogue.

"Sorry," Faith and Buffy repeated.

"Just…Can't you find something quiet to do?"

They filed into the living room. The curtains had been drawn shut tight at the windows, blocking out the sunlight. Angel and Faith looked at each other and burst into giggles.

Buffy plopped on the couch, dragging Angel down beside her. "You wanna watch a movie?" she asked quietly.

Angel slung his arm around her. "Whatever you want," he said.

"We could play cards," Faith suggested.

"Or chess," Angel countered.

Buffy shook her head violently. "I'm bad at chess. My dad taught me and he never let me win."

Faith shrugged. "Never played it."

Angel's jaw dropped. "Never?" he asked, a little excited.

"Uh-uh."

"You girls make a space on the table," he said, standing. "I'll be right back."

He headed into the kitchen, where Joyce was washing dishes. He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Summers?"

"Yes, Angel?"

"Uh, do you have a chess set?"

She dried her hands. "Sure, it's in the hall closet." She showed him where it was.

"Ah, thanks." He took it back into the living room.

"Who's your opponent?"

"Oh, I'm going to teach Faith."

Joyce nodded and headed back to the kitchen.

Angel set the chessboard on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Buffy sat on the floor at his feet, squished between table and couch, and Faith sat across from them.

"Alright, now since you know how to play, Buffy, you'll be black. White always makes the first move," he explained to Faith.

He picked up pieces one at a time, demonstrating as he spoke. "This is the king. He's the most important piece you have, and he knows it. But his moves are limited. One square at a time. He's weighed down by his pomp and circumstance. The entire object of chess is to capture the king. That's checkmate. Barring that, you work to prevent your opponent from moving any pieces. When that happens, it's called a stalemate, or a draw. With me so far?"

Both girls nodded. "Good, 'cause now it gets tricky." He put each king where it belonged on the board. "The queen stands at the king's left, and is more agile. She's brave, cunning, and can move anywhere she likes. Your opponent will fear her immensely.

"The bishops flank the king and queen. They can only move diagonally, and will always remain on the same color square as when they started. They can be very powerful pieces.

"The knights are strange. They can only move in an 'L' pattern. Over two steps and up or back one step, or up or back two steps and over one.

"The rook, or castle, can only move horizontally or vertically in normal moves. However, there is a defense move called castling, which I'll explain later.

"Last are your pawns. They can only move forward one space at a time, except from the starting squares. From there they can move two spaces. They can only attack diagonally. If they reach the other end of the chessboard, they turn into an extra queen.

"Now, when you start, you can only move your pawns or your knights. Once you clear a path, you can move your other pieces. Okay, you ready?"

"I think so," Faith replied.

"Move a piece."

"Any one?"

"Any of your pawns or your knights, yes."

Faith moved her pawn from C2 to C4. "You said two spaces, right?"

Angel nodded, then spoke quietly to Buffy. She moved a black pawn from D7 to D5.

"Now, attack her pawn," Angel instructed Faith.

"How?"

"Put your pawn on the space where hers is, and take her piece off the board."

"Okay, now what?" She held up the captured pawn.

"Just put it to the side somewhere."

He whispered again in Buffy's ear.

She took her knight from B8 and put it on D7 in front of her king.

"Now, the pawn is the only piece that attacks that way. Everything else attacks in the same direction it moves. You want to attack the king. When you put him under attack, it's called check. He must then move a piece into the line of fire if he can, take out the attacker, or move himself out of check.

"When you position all your pieces correctly, you can attack the king in such a way that he can't move. That's checkmate.

"Your turn."

Faith looked at her choices and moved her knight from G1 to F3. "Was that right?"

"Yep," Buffy said as she moved a pawn from B7 to B6.

They played until just after noon, Buffy winning two out of three games.

"Nice set up, Faith," Angel commented as he surveyed her checkmate of Buffy's king.

Faith grinned.

"So, Buffy, what do you think? Am I a better teacher than your dad?"

"Uh-huh. He never even mentioned that castle move to me."

"Hey, B, let's go shopping with my Christmas money," Faith suggested.

"Great! My dad sent me some money, I can go spend it."

"What – what about me?" Angel pouted.

"You can sleep," Faith teased.

"Or you could help my mom. You might get on her good side."

He moped, sighing piteously.

"Oh, come on," Buffy said, pressing kisses to his cheeks, eyes, and nose. "Smile for me? Please?"

He stuck his bottom lip out instead. She leaned in and kissed him, hard. He gently shoved her away. "Go. You'll miss all the good sales."

She hesitated.

"I'll be all right, go."

She didn't need any further pushing. With a quick good-bye, she and Faith were out the door.

Angel packed up the chess set and stowed it. He walked back in the kitchen, watching Mrs. Summers.

Walking loudly, he grabbed a towel and starting drying wet pots.

"So who won?" Joyce asked as she put away plates and cups.

"Buffy twice, Faith once."

"Seems quiet," she remarked later.

"Girls went shopping," he explained.

"And they left you here?"

"Well, sun."

"Oh, yes."

"I'm supposed to go to sleep or help you out."

Joyce thought. "Well, there's not much – oh!" She rushed out of the kitchen with a quick, "Stay there."

He dried off his hands and leaned against the counter.

Joyce came back in with a large manila envelope. "Were you ever in Russia?"

"Twice. Spent fifteen years in Moscow, five in St. Petersburg."

"Ah. Recently?"

"1800's," he replied tersely.

"Good, maybe you can help."

He blinked. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Well, we have a new exhibit coming into the gallery at the end of January. I have to make space for the new display. I took the work home, hoping to finish it over Christmas vacation. I was wondering if you could lend your experience?"

"I'm not very familiar with Russian art, but I'll give it a try."

Faith and Buffy quietly entered the house. "It's not destroyed. Angel must have gone to sleep."

"Look for dust piles or heaps swept under the rug," Faith suggested sarcastically.

"No, the house is too quiet. Something's wrong." She set her bags down by the door, while Faith put her stuff with the rest of her belongings.

"I got your back, B."

Buffy took point, slowly creeping toward the kitchen. She gently pushed the door open.

Angel was standing, explaining something to Joyce, who sat listening with complete attention.

"So he picks her up, drags her over to here, stage left, and then he leaps away offstage. Now she's left onstage, and she does this, like, I can't even describe it, it was something like this." He tried to demonstrate a complicated graceful dance.

"And oh, God. I tell you, I was in tears. And that was 1894, that I saw them. Oh, it was beautiful."

Joyce noticed her daughter and their houseguest. "Oh, girls! You're home."

"What'd you get me?" Angel sprang up and kissed Buffy gently.

"Um … what did you get me?"

"When? I've been stuck in the house all day. It's not like I have the ring of Amarra."

"What's that?"

"It's like a vampire Holy Grail," he explained as he sat at the table. He pulled Buffy into his lap.

"It's supposed to make the wearer invincible – to stakes, sunlight, crosses, you name it. Doesn't exist, though."

"How do you know?" Joyce asked.

"Nobody's ever found it. Believe me, if some vamp had found it, somebody else in the community would know. And there probably wouldn't be a Slayer left alive to stop them."

"Oh. Well, I meant what did you get me for Christmas?"

"I've had a rather blue Christmas this year, so you get my continued existence."

"And that, only by a miracle," Faith interjected.

Angel gave her a half-smile.

"I don't understand," Joyce admitted.

"Angel was sort of haunted by the Ghost of Christmas Past," Buffy began. "He tried to kill himself at sunrise, but then we had all that snow."

Joyce gasped. "Seriously?"

Angel nodded, placing Buffy's head under his chin as he leaned back. "This being, calling itself the First evil, tried to make me kill Buffy and then myself. I decided to just kill myself by standing out in the sun. But then the sunrise never came."

As Joyce sat back in shock, Angel scanned the layouts again.

"I think your best bet is to put some smaller sculptures from the exhibit in the hallway leading to the main showroom."

"Entice the public eye by giving them a small taste," Joyce agreed.

"Yeah." Angel flipped through the pictures previewing the Russian sculptures by Topolsky. "Do you have any Russian tapestries?"

"No, no tapestries at all. Just paintings."

"That's a shame. Because the tapestries would go well with the other pieces. You'd have a very tactile exhibit."

"Mm-hmm."

"What are you guys talking about?" Buffy demanded.

"A Russian art exhibit in your mom's gallery."

"What, and you got conned into helping?"

"Hey lady, you left me here."

"Yeah, you suggested he help your mom," Faith pitched in unhelpfully.

"Come on," he said, tapping his girlfriend on twice on the leg. "Show me what you bought."

Buffy had bought a few pieces of jewelry, some shoes, and a lot of clothes.

Angel looked up as she re-entered the kitchen, displaying the last item of clothing she'd gotten.

"Hmm," he said, his eyes following every curve as she turned.

She was wearing a sleek violet, form-fitting dress with a skirt that flared just above her knees. "You like?"

"Very much. A little too cold for winter, though."

"It'll be great for graduation parties."

His eyes widened. "Am I supposed to show up at those?"

"Maybe. The ones at night, anyway. But you're definitely coming to the Prom. Aren't you?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah, sure," he said quickly. He hated dancing. He rubbed his eyes. "I need a nap. Can I use your room?" He asked Buffy.

"Uh-huh."

Angel followed her upstairs, avoiding the patches of sunlight and wincing at the sounds his leather pants were making.

After Buffy had closed the door, he pulled off his shirt and idly scratched his chest.

Buffy stood still next to the bed, staring at him. Her breathing was unsteady.

She raised her hand to his chest. Angel dropped his arms and stepped closer.

Breathing raggedly, she slowly caressed his chest, following the contours of his muscles. He closed his eyes and made his hands into fists. If he touched her, they both might not be able to stop until it was too late.

Seeing his resolve, Buffy allowed her hands to familiarize themselves with his skin. She slowly circled him, running her hands along his shoulders, down his arms, across his back. She dropped a kiss on his tattoo, then traced its lines with her finger.

"When did you get it?"

"Uh…" He thought a moment. He'd been evil, he knew that. "1810. Darla and I, we were in the Orient. We passed through Russia on our way back to Europe. Napoleon invaded and we … fed off of a lot of his troops."

"Oh. It still suits you."

"Think so?"

"Mmm." She walked around in front of him. She rested both hands on his chest.

He wrapped his hands just above her elbows. He pulled her towards him so he could kiss her with a foot of space between their bodies.

He locked his arms, keeping her at bay. Kissing, he was pretty sure, they could handle.

Then Buffy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stepped into his embrace.

Angel was lost. He kissed her feverishly.

Next thing he knew, they were on the bed. The top half of her new dress was bunched around her waist. He had his face pressed to her chest.

He pulled his head up when he realized what he was doing. "Buffy, I'm sorry. I – "

She cut him off with a kiss. "Who started it, mister?"

"What? Uh…"

"That's right, me. I started it. I'm sorry, Angel." She got out from under him and pulled up her dress. "You came up here for a nap." She pulled back the covers. "Get in."

"Buffy, I –"

"Shut up and get in," she said mock sternly.

He sighed and climbed in. "Thank you."

She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Sleep tight."

"I'll try."

Buffy and Faith were eating popcorn and watching Indian TV when the sun finally set at 7:03 pm.

Buffy stood. Stretching, she said, "I'd better go wake up Angel."

"You Bronzin' later, B?"

"I'll be there."

"Cool. I'm gonna hit the cemeteries."

"Be careful, F."

The inhuman scream that came from the second floor startled them all.

"What is that?" Joyce asked, covering her ears.

"Buffy! Buffy! Nooo!"

"Oh, God," she whispered. "The nightmares." She raced up the stairs, Faith close behind.

The Slayers burst into the bedroom, where Angel was thrashing about and yelling, in the grips of a terrible nightmare.

"Faith, get a cross!" Buffy pulled Angel into a sitting position, and slid in behind him. "Cross!"

"Here!" The brunette tossed one. Buffy held it against Angel's chest, wincing as the flesh sizzled and burned.

"No, don't hurt her! Don't touch her! Buffy!" Angel jerked within Buffy's rock-hard embrace and opened his eyes.

He fought to get out. "Shh, shh," Buffy whispered in his ear. "It's alright, we're okay." She tossed away the cross and smoothed her hand over his new scar. "It's okay, Angel. It's okay," she repeated over and over.

He calmed down, blinking. Wrapping his hands around her small wrists, he leaned his head back on her shoulder.

"Where – where-"

"My bedroom. Sun's down now, you can go back to the mansion."

"Mel's first," he said a while later.

Buffy nodded. Mel's was the butcher shop down by the multiplex where Angel got his pig's blood.

"Faith, go into the kitchen. In the fridge, way in the bottom drawer, is a microwave tuna casserole. Go get it, please?"

Faith looked at her strangely. "O-kay." She slipped out.

Joyce took her place, watching Angel with concern, though he was still sitting in the same position. "Is he okay?" she whispered to her daughter.

"Not yet," Buffy said softly. "But he will be."

"Here you go, B." Faith handed her the box.

Angel sniffed at the air, his eyes following the box intently.

Buffy stood, and ruffled Angel's hair. "Wait in the hall, guys." She closed the door.

Angel tore into the box, and three packs of blood fell in his lap.

"Drink them all," Buffy said softly as he bit the corner off one. "If they stay in there any longer, they'll go bad."

She sat in front of him on the bed and ran her fingers through his hair as he drank.

Buffy cleared away the trash. Angel sat, staring into space. "I could walk you home," she offered.

He was fully alert at that suggestion. "No. Too dangerous, you're still-" He touched her lower belly briefly.

"Oh. Right. I was going to go to the Bronze. Wanna come with?"

"Later. For an hour, maybe. I have to change."

"I happen to like you in those pants. But that's fine. We can dance for an hour and then go wherever."

"No. You hang out with your friends. I need … I need 'me time,' as you would put it."

Buffy smiled. "I get it. See you there?"

He nodded and kissed her sweetly. Gathering his stuff, he left by her window.

She opened the door and headed downstairs. "Angel's going to the mansion, then he'll meet us at the Bronze."

"Mansion? He has a mansion?"

"Yeah, mom. The abandoned one, over on Crawford Street?"

"The one with the hill, looking out over town?"

"Yeah."

"Nice place."

"Mm-hmm."

"Honey, what was that all about?"

"I s-sent him to Hell last May. He had nightmares about it for a while when he got back in October, but I thought they were gone. I guess not."

"What do you mean, you sent him to Hell?"

Faith was listening closely.

"When he was … evil, he opened this gateway to Hall. We fought, and … Willow-" She swallowed over the lump in her throat. "Willow cursed him, restored his soul. I said goodbye to him, then stabbed him. The gateway closed up, and he went to Hell."

Faith stared at her, dumbstruck and crying. Joyce looked horrified. At once, the two women hugged Buffy.

"Oh, honey, why didn't you tell me?"

Buffy let the tears come.

"B, don't you ever keep secrets like that from me again," Faith said. "We're Slayers, girlfriend. You got my back, and I got yours. That means we trust each other. Got it?"

"Uh-huh," she said tearfully.

"Now come on. You got to get snazzy for the Bronze. We'll party, and then I'll patrol."

Buffy smiled weakly. "Thanks."

The Slayers stepped into the Bronze, chatting lightly. Buffy had changed into a silver satin long-sleeved blouse and black miniskirt, while Faith was wearing her new bustier and red hip-hugger jeans. The brunette immediately started bopping to the beat.

"I'm gonna get a table," Buffy called over the music. Faith nodded and moseyed over to the bar for drinks. Buffy was pleased to find the Scooby Gang's usual table open and saved seats for everyone.

Four Star Mary was the band tonight, and Oz always liked to listen to them play. Full moon had been a few weeks ago, so he was safe. Willow, of course, would be at his side.

"Hey, Buffster. You're looking stylish."

"Hey, Xand. Didn't know you were here."

"You alone?" He grabbed a seat next to her.

"Faith's getting a drink, and Angel's coming later."

Faith came back with two beers and a soda. "Diet Pepsi, right B?" She left a stool for Angel to sit next to Buffy.

"Thanks, F. What do I owe you?"

"Pfsh. I got money to burn, sister."

"Well, next round's on me."

Faith shrugged. "Whatever."

"Is Willow here?" Xander asked.

"Haven't seen her yet," Buffy replied. "But Oz should be here. He's never missed Four Star Mary, unless it's on account of moon."

"True." He scanned the crowd. "Oh great," he muttered. "Queen C is back on her throne."

The two girls looked in the direction of his mournful stare, where Cordelia was surrounded by a crowd of Cordettes.

"Poor Xander. Still giving you the brush off?"

"I just think she's jealous we got all that snow."

Buffy smiled wistfully, remembering the snow angels she and Angel had made after their waltz in the street.

"Uh-oh. Buff's got Angel-face."

"Huh?"

Faith chuckled. "You are so far gone, B. You are beyond the point of salvation."

Buffy blushed. Xander got up to get his own soda. When he was out of earshot, Buffy replied softly, "You would be too, if you knew what he could do with his tongue."

Faith stared at her in shocked admiration. "Buffy!"

The blonde blushed more. "Well…"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this! Listen to you, a wild woman."

"Shh, everybody'll hear."

"You're a party animal, B."

"Speaking of animals," Xander said as he sat back down. He pointed at the door, where Oz and Willow walked in hand-and-hand.

Buffy waved them over. "Hi, guys."

"Hi Buffy, Xander. Hello Faith." Willow nodded in the brunette's direction and sat next to Xander.

"Hey" was all Oz said.

"So where's Angel?" Willow looked around.

"He'll be along later."

"Not soon enough for Buffy, though," Faith teased, taking a swig of her beer.

The blonde swatted Faith. "If you keep that up, I'll make him go home."

Faith stuck her tongue out. "He gave me my Christmas presents, I don't need to see him till New Year's."

"What did he get you?" Oz asked.

"First, he saved my royal ass on patrol. Then he gave me this," she indicated the bustier, "and some money that was in one of the pockets."

"To hear you talk, you'd think he was the Christmas Angel," Buffy retorted.

"Who's that?" a smooth voice asked behind her.

"Hey, you're early!" Buffy hopped off her stool. She wrapped her arms around Angel. He'd changed into a pair of jeans, still wearing the same shirt.

Faith patted the stool next to her that she'd saved for him. "Want a beer?"

He sat, his arm still around Buffy. "Yeah, sure." Faith handed him the extra one.

He used his claddagh as a brace against the cap and popped the top off. "I see it fits," he nodded at her top.

She grinned. "Yup."

He turned and kissed Buffy on the cheek. "I decided to get you a gift after all." He placed a small box an inch-and-a-half square in front of her.

Willow gasped and watched, riveted. Buffy took a deep breath and opened it. She closed it quickly. "Where did you find this?"

He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I landed on it."

She opened the ring box again. She smiled wistfully and lifted the silver ring out of its snug compartment. She slid it onto her third finger, right hand, heart pointing back to her wrist. "Thank you, Angel." She kissed him. Willow sat back, slightly disappointed that the box hadn't contained an engagement ring.

"So, Oz," he began conversationally, "band any good tonight?"

"Usually."

"Full moon work out okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Christmas fun?"

"Enjoyable."

"Same here. Well, Christmas Day was."

Buffy reached over and pinched him. "Stop that."

"Ow. What? We're just talking."

"No, you're not talking. You're conversing in Oz-speak. You'll make Willow jealous."

"Fine, I'll sit and speak Latin then. She'll know what I'm saying." He addressed Willow in Latin, "_Vos es eruditio Latin is annus, etiam_?"

"_Etiam_," she replied with a smile. "_EGO certus, si Volo futurus a veneficus quod iacio alica, perceptum lingua_."

"_Bonus informatio_."

Faith giggled. "¿_Usted habla español_?"

"_Sí, señorita. _¿_Dónde usted aprendió_?"

"_El laundromat abajo de la calle de donde crecí para arriba_."

Xander chimed in: "¿_Usted habla español, Faith_?"

"_Sí. La mama dijo que aprendí español antes de que aprendiera inglés. Mi mama trabajó en el laundromat cuando era un bebé_."

Oz smiled, following the conversation.

"Dammit, I shoulda taken Spanish instead of French," Buffy complained.

Angel whispered in her ear, "_Vous avez les yeux les plus beaux que j'ai jamais vus. Ils allument votre visage et soutiennent votre âme. Chaque jour vous tenez votre coeur dehors sur le monde. Vous êtes plus beau que n'importe quelle merveille que j'ai jamais vue dans ma longue vie_." As her friends watched, her face reddened.

She whispered back in his ear, "_Vous avez le bout le plus mignon en existence_."

He let out a short bark of laughter and kissed her temple.

"How many languages do you speak?" Willow asked.

"Six or seven fluently, there are about ten others I can get around in." He took a swig of his beer and scanned the crowd. His gaze stopped on an odd-looking female who was getting very cozy with the man next to her at the bar.

"What are they?" Buffy asked.

"Gaelic, English, Latin, French, German, Spanish, and some demon languages." Angel took another swig of his beer, and as he lifted it, he nonchalantly clinked it against Faith's.

She drank too, and watched as he motioned with the bottle. "Skanky ho at nine o'clock?" she asked softly without looking.

"Yours, yes."

"I got her tagged. I'm not moving 'till she does."

"Okay. Come on, Buffy. Let's dance."

As a slow song began, Angel maneuvered into position. Buffy, like all popular teens, went to hug him and do the turn-in-one-spot dance.

"Hey, hey, what is this?" he demanded, as she approached him that way.

"Huh?"

"What do you think you're doing, dancing like that? Give me your hand." He put his right arm around her waist, and put her left arm around his shoulders. He tucked her right hand against his chest, and began to dance in lazy circles in their little space of floor.

"Now how is this different?"

"It's more intimate. It forces you to look at your partner. You can't pretend they're someone else. You lock eyes with each other and just dance."

She smiled softly. "But we could have done that my way, too."

"Not comfortably."

"So?"

"But you also can't do this," he said as he suddenly pushed her away from him. When she reached the end of his left arm, he spun her back into his embrace.

"Ooh." She was a little breathless.

"See?" He grinned.

"Do it again," she said a little bit later.

An exaggerated sigh escaped his lips. He put a little distance between them and turned her clockwise twice under his arm. She giggled and glanced over his shoulder. "The skanky ho left."

"Faith can handle her," he replied.

The brunette Slayer had indeed disappeared, as Angel and Buffy discovered when they got back to their table.

Willow shared an excited smile with Buffy. They'd watched her dance with Angel, and those spinning moves had looked so cool.

Buffy turned on her stool and leaned against Angel's arm. He turned towards her and rubbed her back. Leaning over her shoulder, he whispered softly in her ear, "_Sol ar aon oidhche cómhlámh, Mé do ghréas smuaineadh neamh budh amharc an moch maidin grian solus far an t'uainne cnocs a'Éire. Tú còmhdaich mé anafior, agus Mé ioma mian taisbeanaim tú mo fárdach'lann_."

She smiled softly and let his words wash over her. She never understood what he was saying when he did this, but she loved the sound of his voice when he spoke Gaelic.

Faith came back then, flushed with the thrill of the kill. She picked up Angel's beer – her own having been finished off earlier – and took a long gulp.

"Help yourself," Angel said, looking at her strangely.

"Thanks," she said lightly, ignoring his look. "She had friends waiting."

"How many?"

"Only three. Made it interesting."

"I'll bet."

A short blond guy wearing lots of leather and an earring came up to Faith and asked her to dance.

"We'll never see her again," Buffy said, laughing as Faith headed for the dance floor.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" Willow muttered, so low only Angel heard it.

He frowned. What did the affable redhead have against Faith?

He wrapped his arms around Buffy, pulled her close, and massaged her belly. "Does it still hurt?" he whispered softly.

"Mm-mm." She shook her head. "But that feels nice."

He kissed the soft flesh behind her ear. "At your service, _mo caraid_."

They sat, mostly, for an hour, before Angel excused himself. Buffy wouldn't let him leave without a lingering kiss, and he made Faith promise to take Buffy straight home before patrolling.

With a wave goodbye for everyone else, he left.


	3. Happy New Year's

Happy New Years!

Disclaimer: (_n_) a denial of legal responsibility; a written statement embodying this.

I do not own these characters. The evil little acid-tripping troll – er, Joss Whedon – does.

Summary: (_n_) a brief account of the main points of something.

A fluffy New Year's party fanfic, though the details were set up in previous "April Fool's" stories.

Spoiler(s): (_n_) a projecting structure on an aircraft wing that increases drag - what the...!? I'd better use 'to spoil:' (_v_) to damage as to make useless, etc; to impair the enjoyment of. Or spoilsport: (_n_) a person who spoils the fun of others.

None, just the background of the previous stories.

Rating: (_n_) an assessment, an evaluation, an appraisal.

Rated 'G: General Audiences' .

Feedback: (_n_) information about a product, service, etc returned to the supplier for purposes of evaluation.

Send all flames, compliments, questions, etc to Be sure to put "Re: New Year's" as your subject title or my dad will delete it (Hey, beotch, send the porn to my brother, he's a red-blooded male).

Author's note: Again, this is fluff. Enjoy your eggnog this New Year's. For you youngsters, have a glass of half eggnog, half milk. It takes the bite out. For those of you OVER 21, have a splash of amaretto with your half-and-half mix.

Buffy set the table as her mother checked on the pork roast. Faith was dutifully stirring the sauerkraut sautéing in the pan on the stove top.

Joyce finished with the roast. "Thanks, Faith, I'll finish it." Faith grabbed some glasses and put them on the table.

The doorbell rang, and Faith took the silverware from Buffy. She finished setting the table as Buffy answered the door.

"Hi! Happy New Year's!" Buffy hugged Willow and Oz.

"Happy New Year!" She took their coats as they came in.

"Dinner's almost ready. We've got pretzels and dip in the living room."

Joyce came in to the living room. "Hello, Willow. And, Oz, right?"

"Hi, Mrs. Summers," he said.

"Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. Sit down, make yourselves comfortable." She went to answer the second doorbell.

Faith came out of the kitchen and waved to Oz and Willow. "B, we need more napkins."

"In the bottom of the pantry." Faith nodded and left the room.

Giles came in, adjusting his glasses. "Hello, everyone."

"Hi, Giles," Willow said. Oz just nodded.

"'Sup, Jeeves?" Faith called from the dining room.

"Happy New Year, Giles."

"Happy New Year, ladies."

"Who else is coming, Buffy?" Willow wanted to know.

"Angel and Xander. I invited Cordelia, too, but she laughed in my face."

"Yeah, she's probably still bitter about … well, you know." Oz reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Buffy went to get the door again. "Hi, Xander!" She hugged him. "Happy New Year's!"

"Happy New Year, Buff."

"Come on in; Oz, Willow and Giles are already here."

Xander hugged Willow and shook Oz's hand. "Hey, G-man." Giles acknowledged Xander's greeting with a nod.

"Heya, Xand," Faith called, waving over her head as she set serving spoons and bowls on the table.

"'Lo, Faith," he said charitably.

Buffy re-entered the kitchen to make sure everything was running smoothly. She was adding more fried onions to the green bean casserole when she stopped in mid-motion, a corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

Faith caught the look and grinned to herself. She called it Buffy's "He's-near-and-my-legs-are-turning-to-puddles" look. Also known as, "Angel face."

Faith went to open the door, wanting to ask Angel a private question before the others converged on him. "Hi, Angel," she said softly as she opened the door. He had his hand raised to knock and a bottle of something at his side. "Happy New Year's." She waved him in.

"Hap – uh, Happy New Year's. You knew it was me?"

"Yeah. You know how Buffy gets when you're around."

A corner of his mouth lifted briefly. "I never really paid attention, because I know how I get when she's around."

"I was wondering, um, being what you are, what you were planning to consume tonight. At dinner."

"I'll eat whatever Mrs. Summers puts in front of me."

"Even though it all tastes like cardboard?"

"Hey, I was raised to be polite."

"Yes, but didn't your mother teach you not to lie?" Faith enjoyed teasing him. She somehow felt like he was letting her do it because he knew she was the Slayer, and if he didn't give her a reason not to, she'd try and fulfill her duty to kill all vampires.

"Well …" He took his coat off and hung it on the banister. "I won't tell her if you won't."

"Deal."

Buffy came out then, because she couldn't stand the wait any longer. Faith took a seat on the couch to give them some privacy.

Buffy smiled softly at him. "Hi. I'm glad you came."

"Hello, Buffy." She stepped into his arms and lifted her face for his kiss. Not one to resist, he kissed her softly, gently. His hand curled at the small of her back. He pulled away gently and rested his forehead against hers.

"Damn," he swore softly, a rare twinkle in his eyes. "Broke my resolution already."

"And what was that?"

"To try and resist your charms," he explained, capturing her pouty lips in another kiss.

When they parted, he lifted the bottle. "Present for your mom. She in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. Everything's getting done all at once." She slid her hand around his elbow and led him to the kitchen. "Hey mom."

"Yes, Buffy? Hello, Angel."

"Hi, Mrs. Summers." He hefted the bottle and put it on the counter. "Brought you something to restock your liquor cabinet after last night."

"Is it the amaretto that Giles polished off, the champagne you took home with you, or the tequila that Faith broke accidentally?" She asked with a twisted grin.

"Amaretto. I've had it a while and don't drink it that much."

"DeSoronno?"

He looked insulted. "Of course it's DeSoronno. Is there any other kind?"

"Nothing I'd drink. We'll have some with dessert." The timer went off on the oven and Joyce whirled, checking pork and casserole and giving kitchen orders to Buffy. Angel raised his hands in surrender and got out of the way.

He gave a casual wave to everyone seated in the living room.

Faith grinned and teased, "Didn't I see you this morning before sunrise?"

He defended himself, pointed at Willow. "When I left at four-thirty this morning, she was still here."

"What'd you do, sleep on the couch?" Xander asked the redhead.

"No. Mrs. Summers drove me home when she went to check on the gallery."

"Willow the party animal, up until the wee hours of the morning," he teased.

"Dinner's ready, everyone," Buffy announced.

They arranged themselves at the table. Joyce took one end and Giles the other, with Faith, Angel, and Buffy on one side. Oz, Willow, and Xander sat facing them.

Giles carved the roast, since it was placed closest to him. Everyone else spooned out helpings of side dishes onto their plates or the plates that were passed to them around the table.

They dug in with appropriate hunger, Faith more desperately than the others. This was her last day in the Summers' house.

She would have loved to stay longer – who in their right mind would pass up obligation-free, rent-free, room and board? But she had been there one week already, and she knew at least Willow didn't trust her. She didn't want to cause problems for Buffy that would later escalate into problems for Faith. And, after all, she had to look out for herself.

'This is a very nice cut of meat, Mrs. Summers," Angel said, beginning his polite tally, after he'd forked a little bit of everything into his mouth.

"Thank you, Angel. I always get my roasts from the butcher shop by Sun Cinemas."

He nodded, for he knew it well. "Mel's. He's a great guy."

"You know him?"

"I've done business there," he replied cryptically.

"Say, Angel," Xander spoke up, his face impassive, "I always thought vamp taste buds couldn't recognize anything but blood."

Oz watched on silently, while Willow and Giles fidgeted. Joyce gazed at Angel with a look of pity and gratitude. Faith shot a glare at Xander that would have made him spontaneously combust. Buffy looked embarrassed, and she glanced at Angel.

His head was bowed, and he was playing with his fork in the food. He tossed a glance in Joyce's direction that was hidden by his lowered brow. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and draped it over his plate. "Excuse me," Angel said, standing up and making a hasty exit out the back door.

Buffy jumped up and ran after him as Faith spat at Xander, "Nice going, Einstein."

"What?" The others glared at him and ate, mostly to keep themselves from making a similarly heartless remark, even in defense of Angel. "What'd I say?"

Buffy hurried out the door, thinking she'd have to run halfway down the block after him. "Angel, wait!"

But he was still there, pacing a wide circle in the small backyard. He looked up as she rushed over to him, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

"Angel," she began, but she didn't know what to say.

He sighed, taking her into his arms. "I tried."

Things had been going so well. It hadn't been the noise-filled, lively Irish holiday celebration he remembered from his childhood, but he had gotten the vibe that everyone was happy to be at the table, hoping for a great meal. He could finally imagine that he and Buffy were a normal couple, spending New Year's Day with her family and friends.

"Xander and his big mouth," Buffy whined.

"No, I was trying to be something I'm not."

"Shush." She also silenced him with a kiss. "Mom wasn't mad."

"Buffy, I ruined everything."

"No you didn't, Xander did."

"Buffy!" Joyce called from the door. "Hurry it up and drag him back in here! Dinner's getting cold."

"See? She wants you to stay."

He frowned and shook his head a little, but allowed Buffy to pull him back inside.

Xander was eating silently, staring into his plate. Everyone else was giving Angel looks of pity or smiles of encouragement.

Angel smiled weakly at Mrs. Summers and sat back down. Buffy wrapped her left hand around his bicep as she ate.

"Ah," Giles said, as he finally thought of something to break the tension. "Has everyone made a list of New Year's resolutions?"

Oz said flat-out, "E-flat major diminished ninth."

Joyce said, "I've always wanted to read "The Rubiyat of Omar Khyyam," and the girls at work got it for me for Christmas."

"You'll love it," Giles and Angel chorused. They looked at each other and shared a small smile.

Buffy rolled her eyes and stated, "I want to pass high school with a 3.3 or better."

"Me next?" Angel asked, a little bewildered when everyone looked at him. He thought for a moment, then turned his head slightly in Buffy's direction. A smile playing with the corners of his mouth, he replied, "Since I already broke one resolution," he smirked at Buffy, "I guess I'll try to fix the plumbing at the mansion."

"Hooray!" Buffy said dully.

Angel looked at her out of the side of his eye. She gave him her playful mega-watt smile.

"I think I want to learn how to drive," Faith announced.

"I'd like to help one of you two girls close down the Hellmouth," Giles said next.

Most of them groaned. "Couldn't you let that wait, Giles?"

"It's a perfectly acceptable goal for the new year," the Englishman defended. "What's yours?"

"Eat less Twinkies. Or maybe eat more Twinkies."

"_Acaso Willow de can aprender cómo tornar te transformarse en un Twinkie_," Faith cracked.

Angel laughed, spitting his drink back into his glass. He wiped the corners of his mouth and looked at Faith. "_Habrá ciertamente un mejora en su aspecto_," he agreed.

Faith snickered and finished off her plate, reaching for more green bean casserole.

"Well," Willow started, off Xander's hurt look, "I'd rather learn how to make things levitate."

"Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"If I can perform a Gypsy curse to restore Angel's soul, I think I can make a pencil float, Giles."

Angel gazed across the table fondly at Willow. "So it was you."

She nodded.

"Thank you. Another minute and … well…" He looked at Buffy, then down at his plate as he forked some sauerkraut.

"Is everyone finished?" Joyce asked as she stood later.

"Oh, yes, it was delicious," and variations were her replies.

Buffy stood to help clear the table, but Joyce waved her down. "You and Faith helped set the table, dear. It's their turn." She pointed to Xander, Willow, and Oz.

"I'll help," Angel offered.

Joyce shook her head. "You're the bartender."

"Fair enough." He took his and Buffy's plates and set them next to the sink. "Does anybody want anything while I'm up?"

"A cup of tea would be lovely, Angel. Thank you," Giles requested.

"I'll have one, too," Willow piped in.

"I like tea," Buffy said.

"I'll make a whole pot, then."

Oz and Xander cleared the table, and Willow helped put the leftovers away. Giles, Buffy, and Faith moved to the living room while Angel put on the water.

"Do you want some tea, Joyce?" Angel asked as she passed him on her way to the living room.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "There should be some raspberry black tea in there. I'll have a cup of that."

He nodded, and reached into the cupboard she pointed to. Willow set some cups and saucers next to him as Oz started the dishwater. ((AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dish-H2O, not the dish washing machine))

"How do you take your tea, Willow?" Angel asked before she moved away.

"What is there? I don't like black tea, does she have herbal?"

"There's chamomile, lemon, peach, peppermint, green tea."

"I'll have some chamomile. One sugar, and two cream."

"Got it. Giles," he called, "do you take your tea the same?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Just one sugar for me, Angel," Joyce mentioned.

He nodded. He dumped the sugar into each cup as the water heated, and propped the teabag against the cup. Giles and Buffy were both taking Earl Grey. In Buffy's cup, he carefully measured four heaping teaspoons of sugar and leveled off the fifth. After the water was hot enough, he poured it into each cup. He added the cream to Willow's, leaving everyone else's black.

Joyce set a tray on the counter next to the tea cups as he opened the fridge.

"What did you need, Angel?"

"Lemon juice. Found it." He pulled the little squeeze bottle off the back of the top shelf. He put two drops into Giles' cup and one drop in Buffy's, then put it back in the fridge.

He leaned against the counter as the tea steeped, watching Oz and Xander do the dishes. Joyce and Willow headed into the living room, leaving the three men in the kitchen.

Xander kept his back turned, and Angel stood with his arms crossed. Oz looked at each of them warily as he dried the dishes Xander was done with.

The awkward silence dragged on, until Angel decided the teas had been steeped long enough. He strained and threw out the tea bags, arranged the cups on the tray, and headed into the living room.

He handed everyone their cup, then sat at the end of the couch. Buffy tucked her legs up under her, cradling her saucer, and scooted over closer to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

"This is excellent, Angel, thank you," Giles remarked.

Angel nodded. "You're welcome."

Buffy took a large sip of her tea. She smiled ruefully, and a tear slipped from her eye. She tilted her head towards Angel, and rested her temple on his jaw.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"You remembered," she whispered.

He quirked his lips in a lopsided smile and shifted his head to kiss her temple. "How could I forget? Earl Grey, with enough sugar to give me a cavity."

She snuggled up to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Faith excused herself to go check the spare room and make sure she hadn't left anything – like a toothbrush. As soon as she had reached the top of the stairs, Joyce leaned far forwards, picking up a packet she'd been sitting on.

"Quick, Buffy, before she comes back down." She tossed the packet to her daughter, who'd scrambled off the couch.

Buffy scooted over to Faith's knapsack and shoved the packet inside. She reached a hand under the couch and pulled out a Ziploc bag of non-perishable food and stuffed it on top of the packet. She zipped it closed and lunged for the couch.

Angel smirked into her hair and handed her the saucer and teacup she had pushed into his hands. She smiled brilliantly at him, making his dead heart ache.

Faith came back down with a small white item hidden in her hands. She stooped by her duffel bag that was closest and tucked it inside.

Buffy smiled, knowing what it was. Now Faith had her very own Mr. Gordo – in the form of a white lion named King Tuesday. Faith had made a mention once, a few months before, that she had always wanted a puppy. Buffy had barely heard it and hadn't commented on it, but she had remembered.

Last night, she had introduced Faith to Mr. Gordo. Faith had been amused as Buffy gushed about the hot pink pig, but when she thought the blonde wasn't looking, she crossed her arms and rested her chin on its head, enfolding the stuffed animal in a hug.

Faith stood in the foyer, hooking her thumbs through the belt loops of her black jeans and slipping her hands into her front pockets.

Joyce set her cup aside and stood. "Are you heading out, Faith?"

"Yeah, Mrs. S. I gotta get back. Have to make sure my stuff's still there."

"Well, it was nice having you, Faith. Don't be a stranger."

"Yeah. Thanks." She wasn't good at gratitude or goodbyes – never had been. She stuck out her hand and shook Joyce's.

"We'll walk back with you, Faith," Buffy said, standing. Angel followed suit, holding her hand.

"No," Faith protested quickly. "I, uh, I got too much stuff to bring back."

"I'll hook up with you later, then."

"Yeah, we'll do a sweep." She nodded her head at Angel and raised her hand in the general direction of the other Scoobies. "Angel."

"Faith," he said, returning the nod.

After the front door closed, Angel remained standing. He collected the empty teacups and took them back into the kitchen. He said his own goodbyes to Oz and Xander, then came out and grabbed his coat off the banister.

Buffy frowned. "You're not staying for dessert?"

"No, I should go. Wouldn't be able to taste it anyway."

Buffy pouted, and she looked so cute Angel had to put his hands on her shoulders and kiss her forehead. "You have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah," she whined. Then she brightened. "See you after?"

"Not like I have anywhere else to go."

She smiled and tipped her head back, pursing her lips. He smirked, that smile that was oh-so-sexy when he was in a good mood, and condescending when he was evil. He leaned in, rubbing her nose with his, and captured her lips so swiftly he caught her mid-breath.

She released it into his mouth, hot and sweet and unneeded. His hands traveled down her arms, and only when her left hand clutched at his jacket did Angel realize he still held onto it.

Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss. Buffy sighed, rubbing their noses together once more, and took a step back. She watched as he slipped on his leather jacket.

As he opened the door, he turned. He touched his fingers to his lips, then reversed his hand, facing his palm towards her. She smiled, and he stepped out of the house.

Buffy watched him head down the walk, then shut the door and returned to the living room. She flounced on the couch next to Willow and tucked her feet under her. She forced a smile to her face, and thinking of the quiet time she could spend with Angel after school tomorrow helped.

Xander and Willow got into an argument over whether they were going to watch the string bands or football, and Buffy smirked as she flipped through her Trig textbook. Eventually, Willow allowed Xander his testosterone fun, and scooted over to help Buffy study.


End file.
